


Alive

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: What do you dream about in war? Staying alive, of course.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Alive

Charles smiled when he came into the scrub room and saw his aid asleep on the wooden bench there, head pillowed on a lanky, outstretched arm, booted feet dangling. Because he had been on hand to help with this emergency procedure, Klinger was gowned, but underneath he wore what he’d gone to bed in: fatigues that slipped from his waist and revealed the rise of one hip and a Mud Hens t-shirt that Winchester suspected served as a sort of security blanket or shield against horror. He saw Klinger twitch, dreaming, and knew he’d awaken with his neck in knots if he stayed where he was. 

He shook one thin shoulder. “Wake up, Klinger.” 

The Corporal jerked under his fingers. “Whaddaya need, sir? I’ll get it, promise… jus’ needed a minute.” 

“The surgery is complete. All I need is for you to return to your bed.”

Klinger swung his feet out so that they rested on the floor, but stalled there, seeming to lack the energy to stand. “I was dreaming,” he murmured. 

“Of pleasant things, I hope,” Charles said, removing his white coat and changing out of surgical garb and into hated green. 

Klinger’s head had gone back, his eyes were closed. “I used to dream of getting outta here in one piece,” he murmured, words fused into a hum of sound, running together. “Now I just dream about you.” 

Charles went still. In the silence of the scrub room in the middle of the night, the soft, even breaths of the Corporal were audible; he was asleep again. The surgeon’s quick, analytical mind ran through his time at the 4077, pausing on his interactions with the young Corporal. He enjoyed sparring with him; Klinger never backed down from his fighting displays of wit, and, when Charles became too verbose, those dark eyes would laugh him out of it. Was it possible that Klinger actually wanted  _ different  _ words from him? It kindled an illogical sense of wonder in him and he found himself, mad as it was, looking forward to finding out! 

For now, though, his clear duty was to save the exhausted Corporal from neck strain. He shook him again, but Klinger barely stirred.  _ Alright, then, Maxwell. If you really were speaking of  _ **_me_ ** _ , you will regret sleeping through this.  _ He gathered the smaller man to his chest. It had been awhile since he’d bodily lifted anyone, but overwork and terrible food had left Klinger very thin, and they didn’t have far to go, anyway. 

Thankfully, the Corporal’s tent was unlocked, so Charles didn’t have to go through his pockets for keys. The bed was chaos from where Klinger had leapt out to assist him, so he smoothed things as best he could and tucked the Corporal in. Klinger drew into a ball, warmth-seeking, and a shock of dark hair fell across his face. Charles intended only to brush the dark strands back, but when his fingers made contact, he drew back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything soft. It was a trespass, of course, to return to touching the sleeping Corporal’s hair, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, would Klinger mind? 

Standing there, fingers swimming gently through dark strands, he considered expanding his trespass. God, it had been so long since he’d been warmed by another body, since he’d buried his face in the crook of a living shoulder or the hollow of a neck. The only touch that existed here was mending bodies - noble, but one sided. Besides, he’d only stay for five minutes. So reasoning, he quietly stepped out of his shoes and eased in beside Klinger. He made no claim on the blankets, just slipped an arm around the creature buried in them. Klinger unfurled against him at his touch, somehow burrowing as much under him as beside him and Winchester smiled at being made a shelter. “Maxwell?” he whispered. “Are you warm enough?” 

The Corporal’s answer was indistinguishable except for one word: “Major.” 

Smiling, Charles tucked Klinger in tighter against him. “Me too,” he said. 

***

Charles woke because some brave soul was gently shaking him. Reveille had not been sounded; why was he being drawn toward wakefulness while the rest of the camp slept? 

The first thing he saw was Klinger’s worried face. Why was Klinger in the Swamp? The second thing he saw was a background of castoff lipstick cases, bits of snipped lace and ribbons, discarded dresses. Not the Swamp. 

“Sir, I don’t want to talk out of turn here, but how did you get here?”  _ And please tell me I didn’t somehow sleep through something really good _ . 

“Ah, well, I brought you back. I must have fallen asleep. My apologies.” 

“Don’t apologize. Everyone gets worn out sometimes.” 

“I should go,” Charles began, but Klinger twined an arm in his for just a moment, holding fast. 

“Major, you probably don’t know this about me, but I’m from a big family. There was always somebody crashing in our apartment. I never got used to sleeping alone. You’d be doing me a kindness if you stayed.”

Cautiously, Winchester settled back beside him. Klinger rearranged the covers so that they resembled nothing so much as a married couple cuddled up and trying to stall the coming day. Winchester heard Klinger give a happy sigh and he slung a casual arm around his small frame. 

He wanted to explore the new possibilities offered by the presence of the Corporal, his body fitted against his, but he worried that he was wrong, that he’d misheard or misunderstood Klinger’s sleepy remarks. Maybe he would have welcomed any warm body. What Winchester overlooked as he tried to navigate the situation he found himself in, was that he wasn’t in it alone. 

“Are you asleep, Major?” Klinger asked softly. 

“No.”

“Y’know, we don’t have to go to reveille because you were working last night.”

“I do.” 

“Want to spend it having a little fun?” 

Winchester couldn’t see his face; Klinger was turned away, his back to Charles’ chest. He wanted to ask the Corporal if he was joking, but decided to gamble. “Perhaps. Talk me into it.” 

“I don’t have your fine words, Major. But if you’re feeling brave, I can show you.”

What he felt was warm and content, grateful for the feel of another living soul. “No one has ever called me brave, Maxwell, but I trust you. Will that serve?” 

“Thanks, Major.” Then he was quiet and somehow - Charles was impressed because he felt nothing - he loosened his pants and began to stroke him. 

_ It was  _ **_me_ ** _ you were dreaming of _ , Charles thought, but then froze. Maybe Klinger would have made his offer to anyone. But then it turned out that Klinger did have a few fine words, or, at least, a few significant ones. “I’ve wanted this more than I want a section 8, Major,” he said in a choked voice, moving against him. 

“Oh?” 

“Never thought there’d be a chance,” he admitted. Outside, the camp was stirring itself as morning light filtered down. Winchester heard birds scolding the personnel walking toward breakfast. He felt sorry for them; he had a much better start to the day than weak coffee, touching him gently, as though awed. 

He decided his companion had been brave enough for long enough. “Maxwell, let me see you.” Klinger hurried to comply, only leaving off touching him for a second. When their eyes met, Klinger blushed as if realizing this was really happening for the first time. Charles brushed his hair back from his face. “You aren’t dreaming,” he teased, brushing over his mouth. 

“Sure feels like it.” 

“What can I do to convince you, I wonder?” 

Klinger wriggled loose and scooted down his body, impressive acrobatics for an army cot. “My turn to convince  _ you,  _ I think,” he reminded him. Outside the jarring notes of reveille were sounded; at that same moment, Klinger took him into his mouth. 

It felt better than anything he’d experienced since landing in Asia and he held the slighter man’s head down for a beat just to keep feeling it. He heard Klinger chuckle when he drew back up. “You don’t have to stop, Major. I can take it.” 

He backed this up by taking him deep. Charles dug his fingers into the bed covers. This was a lot to endure at dawn and he knew he couldn’t hold out long. He stroked Klinger’s hair and back and shoulders as he urged him on, told him how beautiful he was - in costume or out - surprising him so much that a few times he went still. 

After it was over, he curled up on his chest, riding out the rapid rise and fall. “You may wake me up anytime,” Charles praised him. “Now, come here.” 

On his knees, Klinger gave himself to that mouth. Charles got him ready, but used his eyes to cede him control. Klinger couldn’t believe it, heard himself ask, “Are you sure?”

Charles nodded with his sex heavy on his tongue. Given permission, Klinger didn’t hold back, wondering how the Major intended to explain the red, swollen lips that were sure to result from having his mouth thoroughly fucked at 7 AM. Then he lost the capacity to wonder anything and just felt. 

Charles drew him down afterward, warming him, clothes and covers madly twisted, eyes proud at what he’d reduced him to. “I know one thing for sure,” Klinger told him, kissing up his neck. 

“What’s that?”

“I won’t die here. I have to stay alive to see what you’re gonna let me do next!”

Charles spoke into his ear for a minute, making him sink down with a sound that was pure want. “Seriously? In skirts and everything?” 

“Unless you’d rather not.” 

“I’m not that stupid, Major.” He gave him a curious look then. “You’d, uh, you’d return the favor, right?” 

“Of course.” 

Klinger smiled. It didn’t have a name yet, this new adventure he was on with the man at his side, but it was definitely something worth living for. 

End! 


End file.
